


tempest of the night

by Anonymous



Category: Leverage
Genre: Gen, Past Child Abuse, most of the tags are in the end story notes so they won't spoil you, read them if you want to be warned about specific story content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24688309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The team must work together to save one of their own.
Kudos: 23
Collections: Anonymous





	tempest of the night

**Author's Note:**

> set roughly sometime in S1

Sometimes life provides warnings, forebodings of danger that give chances to avoid it. Sometimes there is no warning at all, and the only thing to do is weather the storm.

* * *

"Anyone seen Sophie?" Nate called from his office.

Hardison was already in the conference room, putting the last-minute touches on the presentation he was going to give. "No," he said, eyes fixed on the laptop in front of him.

Eliot strolled into the conference room. "Nope," he called to Nate.

"I haven't seen her," Parker said from one of the chairs, fiddling with a lock. She held it up to her ear as she turned the dial.

"You want me to look?" Hardison asked.

"It's not like her to be late to a briefing, and she knew about it last night. Yes, please," Nate added as he entered the room.

Parker continued picking her locks, while Hardison tapped at the laptop. Eliot waited calmly.

After a minute, Hardison frowned. "Phone's been on the same street since last night, and the security system at her apartment hasn't been touched since she set it yesterday morning. She never got home last night."

Eliot's head popped up sharply, and Parker glanced over with a furrowed brow. Nate fixed his gaze on Hardison. "Can you trace her path home last night?" Nate asked.

"Working on it, working on it…" Hardison tapped and clicked some more. "OK, I see her leaving here… She's walking fine all the way down to—oh s***!"

The outburst had the other three immediately leaping up and clumping around the laptop. Hardison backed the video up and let it play for them to see, throwing it up on the big screens. It showed Sophie strolling down the sidewalk calmly until a man in dark clothes and a hoodie suddenly stepped out from between two cars and held a taser out. Sophie collapsed to the ground and was gathered up by the man and dumped into the trunk of the car. Further frames showed him tying her hands and feet together, stuffing a gag in her mouth, and dropping her purse underneath the other car before he slammed the lid down and peeled away from the curb.

"Who is that?" Nate's voice was icy cold.

"I'm trying to analyze that, but he's turned away from the camera too much to get any kind of facial rec," Hardison answered, a note of frustration in his voice. He opened up a second set of windows, typing furiously.

"Five foot nine, about one fifty or one sixty pounds," Eliot commented.

"Could it be someone we know?" asked Parker. "Someone we conned?"

"If it is, they'd contact us soon," Eliot said. "They would want to gloat to exact some sort of revenge. They'd never just grab her quietly."

Nate studied the image intently. "License plate?"

Hardison shook his head. "Stolen, and doesn't match the vehicle. It's a black Toyota Camry—that's practically the most common vehicle on the road—so trying to find her by the car would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. Unless he keeps the same plates on, there's no chance of using that."

"How far can you track the vehicle?" Eliot asked.

"Been working on that… Damn! I lose him right there." Hardison stabbed a finger at a map of the city. "He could be anywhere after that point."

Eliot examined the location. "Though he probably lives somewhere around there or he'd show up on the cams again, right?"

"Right."

"Does that mean we can't get Sophie back?" asked Parker.

"No, we will get her back," Nate said, a cold fury in his eyes. "And whoever has her will wish he had never seen her. Here's what we're going to do…"

* * *

Sophie attempted to force the anxiety down once more. She'd regained control of her body only once she was in the trunk of the car, hands and feet bound and a gag in her mouth. Her forehead stung a little and her right wrist throbbed painfully—so much so that she couldn't even make an attempt to free her hands. Her heart had sunk when she remembered she'd pulled the com out of her ear and put it in her purse as she walked. The team wouldn't have a clue where she was, and she had to hope that Hardison would be able to do his magic in time for the team to find her. _Nate, please come quickly,_ she thought.

* * *

"This isn't good," Hardison announced ominously. He sent the information up to the screen before going back to the hacking.

"A serial killer," said Eliot. "Three other women in the last five years, all missing from this area."

"And the cops didn't put the pieces together?" Parker furrowed her brow.

Hardison clicked some more. "Looks like they've got an open investigation, but they haven't made any progress on it. All they have are the bodies, only one of which was found recently enough to get any evidence off of."

The sound of smashing glass startled the younger three, and they turned to see Nate punching the wall before leaning his head against it. The remains of his glass of alcohol lay strewn across the floor. Parker glanced at Eliot and then Hardison.

"I'm going to bet he just saw the coroner's report on that one body," Hardison said quietly, and Eliot and Parker followed his eyes as he looked at the screen. The words _signs of repeated sexual assault_ seemed to stand out in bold, and the knots in each stomach twisted some more.

* * *

Sophie could taste blood where the punch had just landed. She'd tried to wriggle her way off her captor's shoulder as he carried her into his garage, but all it had earned her was a massively bruised cheek. Worse was the shooting pain that occurred down her left arm when he dropped her on the floor. He'd propped open a basement door, then picked her back up and carried her down the stairs and through an open door into a room with soundproofing on the walls.

"Don't go anywhere, now," the man said as he dropped her again, laughing at his own joke.

Sophie fought the rising nausea as the pain washed over her.

He returned after closing the door, only to take her arms and snap a pair of cuffs on each, attaching the other end to heavy metal bar structures. "That'll keep you nice and ready for me," he said with an evil grin, running his index finger down her cheek.

Sophie jerked away from his finger, and was suddenly gasping for air as a punch landed on her ribs hard enough to crack a couple. She concentrated on breathing slow and shallow, trying to get the pain under control.

"Lesson number one: hold still. Do you understand?" He untied the gag. "You're gonna say 'yes, master'."

"Yes, master," Sophie made herself say when he raised a fist again.

"Good." He smiled. "Sleep tight. We'll get to know each other a bit better in the morning."

She struggled to keep the tears back as the door closed behind him. She caught sight of a video camera on one wall, pointed straight at her. _Nate, hurry,_ she thought. _This is getting worse and worse._

* * *

Eliot rubbed his eyes blearily and cast his gaze around the room. Parker had vanished to her office hours ago, Nate was alternating pacing the room and muttering to himself with staring at a drink, and Hardison blinked tiredly and took gulps of orange soda in between typing. "Where are we now?" Eliot asked Hardison.

"I'm hacking hundreds of home wi-fi networks, that's what. So far none of the webcams or photos I've found have our guy—not that I'd be sure if I saw him—and none of 'em has Sophie. I can't even be sure I'm always in the right neighborhoods."

Eliot raised his eyebrows. "Isn't there some way you can work street by street or anything? You know, organized?"

Hardison glared at him. "The Internet don't work that way. I can hack just about anything, but I have to know what to hack. This"—he gestured at the laptop—"this is just guessing at locations and hoping I don't miss one in the process. Even if you walked the streets and tried to hack everyone's wifi, you'd miss the people who do wired only. Ain't many of those but they tend to be the paranoid ones, which, if you're going around kidnapping women, could be our guy."

Eliot nodded. "Let me know if there's anything I can get you." He wished he had some of Hardison's skills so they could divide and conquer, but there was no doubt that only one of them would have any success with the hacking.

"At this point, another coffee is all. I love my orange soda but I need another caffeine hit." Hardison yawned as he kept typing.

"On it."

* * *

"Wakey wakey," Sophie's captor called as he entered the room, closing the door behind him.

Sophie had been unable to sleep due to the pain, so she'd only closed her eyes to rest them the rest of the night. She opened them to see him advancing with a knife, and couldn't hide the fear that flitted across her face at the sight.

"Oh, does this scare you?" he asked, waving it gently in midair before bending down. "It should. See, if you don't behave, this is what happens"—he drew it across her chest lightly, drawing blood—"so you want to hold very, very still. I might not be able to be so careful if you move suddenly."

Sophie held her body as rigidly as possible, tasting blood again: the searing pain of the cut had caused her to bite her lip.

"We're just going to get rid of these clothes you don't need," he said, grinning as he began to cut through her blouse down the front, then from the neck down each sleeve.

The cool air hitting her skin sent goosebumps across her body, and Sophie closed her eyes as more and more of her body was exposed. _Nate, I'm sorry…_

* * *

"Oh f***ing hell," Hardison swore, hitting the keys suddenly to close the window and looking away. "S***, I found her."

Eliot was suddenly at his side. "Good. Where?"

"Not got that far yet. Parker, I need you," Hardison called.

Eliot would have wondered at the speed Parker appeared in front of Hardison, but he'd learned not to question her appearances and disappearances.

"What is it?"

"I found the video that our guy's been taking of Sophie and sending to his computer. He stores it all to watch later," Hardison spat, breathing hard to control himself.

Parker shook her head in confusion. "What do you need me to do?"

"One of us needs to watch it, to find a clear picture of the guy's face. The camera angle isn't good for that."

"Wouldn't hurt to note any injuries as well," Eliot added.

"You need me for that?" Parker asked, puzzled. "Why don't you just—"

"I'll watch it," Nate said, walking down the stairs.

"No, you're not," Eliot said. "Sophie wouldn't want you to see her like that. Nor me or Hardison. Parker, it's gotta be you."

"I'm setting it right now so that all the data goes to that laptop," Hardison said, pointing to a spare lying on the other side of the table. "Anything his camera captures goes into files on there now. Earbuds next to it."

Parker picked up the earbuds and put them in before she sat down facing them and started up one of the files.

"Last I knew I was still the boss here," Nate argued, standing at the bottom of the steps..

"Yeah, when it comes to jobs," Eliot replied. "This isn't a job. This is a retrieval. And that's my thing." He exchanged glances with Hardison, who nodded briefly. "And you're too close to this to think clearly anyway."

"I can think just fine," shouted Nate.

Eliot marched up to him. "Yeah? Well, I say otherwise." His volume dropped to barely above a whisper as his face was inches from Nate's. "You know how Sophie feels about you. The last thing she'll want is for you to have seen everything she went through when she couldn't fight back."

Nate closed his eyes and sank down on one of the last few steps, dropping his head into his hands. Eliot watched him for a few minutes, waiting, before the sound from Parker's side of the room interrupted his thoughts.

"Got him, sending you the picture now," she said. "And I think she's broken at least one of her arms, because she isn't moving them at all. And possibly ribs."

"Yep, there's a lock. Come on, baby, come on," Hardison muttered as the search went through faces as fast as possible.

Parker alternately clicked, tapped keys, and watched the screen, finally swearing with such intensity that Eliot blinked. He didn't think he'd ever heard such sheer hatred from her lips before.

"Got him! Address and all. Let's go get Sophie back." Hardison closed the lid on his laptop, throwing on a jacket.

Parker hit a few of the keys so hard that Eliot thought she might break the laptop. She slammed the lid down and ran to join the others already heading out the door.

"Well?" Eliot asked quietly when she caught up to him.

"He made her have sex with him several times—and made some of it feel good, and then taunted her about that. I'm going to kill him," Parker said with a murderous look in her eyes, half-sprinting down the stairs and to their van.

Eliot repeated her earlier oath in much the same tones as he matched her pace. "Go for it. Just let me get him tied up for you first." Nate didn't have to like this one; Eliot wasn't going to ask permission.

"Agreed."

"I can drive, Hardison," came Nate's voice from ahead of them.

"No, man, you've had a few drinks too many for that."

Eliot rolled his eyes skyward. "Nate, you're shotgun. Now!" he ordered when the older man looked like he would argue. Eliot waited for Parker to climb in the middle before he joined her. "What state is she in right now?" he asked in a voice he hoped would not carry to the men in the front.

"Naked, shivering some. Plus injured. Her hands are chained to bars on either side."

"OK, when we get there, you figure out where she is, free her, put this blanket over her." Eliot pulled one from behind the seat and dumped it in Parker's lap. "When I've got the guy all wrapped up for you, I'll let you know and we can trade places. Don't let her get up or go anywhere."

Parker nodded, the murderous look beginning to creep onto her face again as she plotted.

* * *

Sophie concentrated on breathing slowly and shallowly, trying to chase out the memory of the day, of her body betraying her, of the monster's hands and body on hers. She was so exhausted, but between the memories and the injuries, she wasn't sure if she could sleep at all. The team still hadn't come for her, she thought, and hoped this wouldn't be the time they arrived too late. _If it is, I hope you don't blame yourself,_ she told Nate in her head. He would, though, she knew. She wondered if it would break him as surely as losing Sam had. If she were lucky, she might be able to tell from his reaction. If he came in time. She blinked back another tear and tried to hold onto that hope.

* * *

"Stop around the corner, right there," Eliot ordered Hardison, who pulled the van over to the curb a safe distance from the house in question. He pulled open the van door and hopped out, putting a hand up when Nate attempted to get out. "Here's how this goes. Parker and I go in, we'll bring Sophie out. You can hold her on the way back, in the middle." Nate's eyes flashed, but Eliot didn't back down. Finally Nate nodded, and Eliot continued. "Hardison, does the guy's computer have just the videos of Sophie on it or—"

Hardison shook his head. "The other three women too."

"Can you kill his camera and wipe just Sophie's off his computer? Leave the rest. But wait till I'm back out for that. No warning him."

"Sure thing."

"Parker," he called before she had a chance to step a foot away from the van.

"What?"

"Gloves. Cops are likely to be all over this place afterwards. We don't need our fingerprints getting mixed up in it."

"Oh, right." Both of them pulled gloves on and disappeared into the night.

* * *

The first inkling Sophie had that things might be looking up was the soft click of the door long after her captor had gone upstairs to bed. When the figure drew closer, gripping a flashlight, Sophie could see the blond hair peeking out from underneath the edge of the dark cap the other person wore. Her eyes filled with tears. "Parker?"

"We're here, Sophie. Eliot's taking care of the guy upstairs." Parker set something aside, dropped to her knees, and began working on the cuffs, freeing Sophie's wrists quickly and gently resting them across her stomach.

"I was afraid you wouldn't be able to find me. I thought—" Sophie's voice wavered and she swallowed hard.

Parker looked at her gently and picked up the blanket she had cast aside. "Here," she said, draping it across Sophie's torso. "Eliot said he'll call when he's ready for us to change places. We're supposed to stay put until then."

Sophie lost her battle with tears, closing her eyes as they began to stream down her face.

"Hey, it's OK. We found you now. It took Hardison all day to hack like several thousand people's Internet, or we'd have been here sooner," Parker said, and Sophie could feel a hand petting her hair, almost as one might pet a cat.

"All ready for you," Eliot called from the top of the stairs, flicking on the light.

"That's my cue," Parker said. "I'll see you in the van."

Eliot turned back to give one last order. "When you're done, do a sweep to grab anything of Sophie's and wipe down where she's touched; I don't want anything left here to tie this guy to her or us."

"Got it," came the reply over Parker's shoulder. Her footsteps echoed as she bounded up the steps.

Eliot's slower ones progressed over to Sophie, and she felt rather than heard him sink down next to her. She opened tear-filled eyes, squinting at the bright light.

"Ready to get out of here?" he asked her with a warm smile.

"Absolutely," she said, attempting to smile back. She winced as the action pulled on her bruised cheek and split lip.

Eliot didn't miss anything. "I'll take care of that in a bit. I'm going to carry you out, all right? Your muscles are probably very stiff and I need to deal with the injuries before you try to get dressed."

Sophie nodded, and watched him very carefully wrap the blanket around all private areas as he lifted her into his arms. He tipped her against his chest slightly, mindful of her injured wrist, and she began to breathe in a scent radically different to the slightly damp basement she'd been in for over a day. A wave of tiredness washed over her, and she closed her eyes again.

* * *

Eliot gently cradled Sophie in his arms as he moved swiftly up the stairs and out through the back door. He didn't hear any noises from the front room where he had left Sophie's captor, but he'd trussed the guy up thoroughly before leaving him, so he wasn't worried about any attempts at escape. He silently made his way down the street till he reached the van.

Nate leaped out as he arrived. "Sophie," he said, with a choked sound Eliot had never heard from him before.

"Get in the middle so I can hand her to you. Far side," Eliot ordered. For once Nate didn't argue, and Eliot was able to set her slowly on Nate's lap. "Careful with her left arm," he warned Nate before the older man could clutch her to him. "Right wrist too." Eliot got in the other seat in the middle and closed the door behind him.

"Where's Parker?" Nate asked.

"Killing the guy," Eliot said flatly, ignoring Nate's look. "Hardison, now's the time to wipe the videos of Sophie."

"You got it," Hardison replied, picking up his laptop from between the front seats and starting into it right away.

"She's _killing_ him?" Nate asked, slightly incredulous.

"You object? She had to _watch_. I'd do it myself but I think that gives her dibs. A conviction in court might be nice, but it won't be anywhere near painful enough for this animal." Eliot hoped Parker had found an excruciating method of execution. He'd have to ask later. "And we can't run the risk of the authorities identifying Sophie. So yes, she's killing him." His eyes met Sophie's, unapologetic.

Sophie stared at Eliot for a few moments, then gave a tiny nod before closing her eyes again and leaning her head against Nate's chest. Nate's free hand came up to brush some of her locks out of her face, and he leaned his nose down to the crown of her head to breathe in deeply.

"Videos are wiped."

"Good. Soon as Parker returns, we can go home. I've got enough of a kit at my place to patch her up, unless you want to go to a hospital?" Eliot asked.

The last bit was directed at Sophie, who whispered, "No, your place is fine."

"That the blue house in the middle of the suburbs?" Hardison asked.

Eliot gave Hardison a look at the tone of voice in which he'd said 'suburbs'; there wasn't any point at getting annoyed that Hardison knew where it was. "It's the perfect camouflage. Keep the lawn tended, be friendly with the neighbors, no one suspects who you are or what you really do. Same principle this guy used."

No one said another word at that until Parker emerged from the inky blackness a couple minutes later, dropping a trash bag on the floor and peeling off her gloves to add to it. "Let's go," she urged Hardison, who needed no further prompting.

"He's still alive," she announced, turning in her seat to address Eliot, "but he won't stay that way for long." Her voice held an odd note, and Eliot made a mental reminder to talk with her about it later.

"Good," he told her as the van pulled away from the house of horrors that had held Sophie for over 24 hours.

* * *

The trip back to Eliot's place was quiet, and the humming of the van's engine lulled Sophie into a light doze. She kept her eyes closed as Nate carried her inside and up the stairs, then held her on his lap again while they readied a bed to lay her on. Nate's hands were gentle as they lowered her to the clean sheets. He smoothed some hair back from her temple, but she didn't open her eyes. The world had become nothing but pain and effort and she just couldn't deal with it anymore. She especially didn't have the energy to deal with Nate and his emotions.

Eliot's voice broke through the haze in her mind. "All right, time for everyone to clear out—except you, Parker. I need you to stay with her, let her rest, don't let her try to do anything."

"I'm staying," insisted Nate.

"No," Eliot said, in a voice that brooked no argument. "Out. Now."

"We got her back, now I'm—"

Eliot's voice dropped to a hiss. "You really want to fight me on this? Because I can tell you who will lose and it won't be me." A beat, then, "Downstairs, if you still want to argue about it."

The door soon closed and the sound of footsteps died away. Sophie could sense Parker sitting beside her quietly, and was never more grateful for the other woman's comfort with silence. She breathed slowly and evenly, letting the fog roll back over her consciousness.

* * *

Eliot gave Nate no opportunity to speak until they had both descended the stairs to the first floor and moved into the kitchen. "You want to argue still?"

"Are you trying to take over this team?" Nate asked in nearly a snarl.

Eliot's eyes met his evenly. "No. But I do have a question for you."

"What?"

"You ever been around someone before who's been through what she's just been through?" Nate's silence was answer enough. "Because I have. And I can tell you, it's going to take her a while just to let her body heal, much less her mind, and she isn't going to be able to handle your issues on top of it."

"My iss—" Nate began.

"I'm serious," Eliot said, steady gaze on Nate the whole time. "You're blaming yourself. And at the same time not wanting to let her go. She. Can't. Deal. With. That. Now." Eliot punctuated each word, hoping it would sink into Nate's brain.

Nate's face shifted subtly from _ready to rip your head off_ to _ready to tear myself apart_ , which Eliot counted a success.

"Listen, man, she's going to need you later. But right now, I'm gonna patch her up, and Parker's gonna to sit with her, and we're gonna give her some space to recover." Eliot turned to leave, but glanced back once. Nate looked stricken and a little lost. "You want to help, you can run errands. I'll have a grocery list for you in a little bit."

Nate pulled out a counter stool and slumped onto it, forehead grinding against his fists.

Eliot glanced over at Hardison, who watched Nate with a worried look on his face. Catching the hacker's eyes, he nodded slightly towards Nate.

The younger man got the hint and pulled out one of the chairs at the little kitchen table, sinking slowly into it with a sigh. "Long day, man," he said in response to the raised eyebrow, "but I'm good. Go patch her up."

Eliot needed no further encouragement, pulling the medical kit out of the downstairs bathroom and returning to the bedroom. Parker hadn't budged from the bedside chair, and Sophie looked like she was asleep. That wouldn't be for long, he thought with some regret. "Sophie?" he called softly. "We need to deal with those wounds before they're infected." He'd caught sight of a knife wound on her upper chest; who knew what else there was underneath the blanket.

Sophie's eyes flickered open and she took a few breaths before her face wrinkled up a little. "I'm thirsty. And I need to go to the bathroom. He only brought a chamber pot once."

This would not be fun, Eliot thought. "OK, I can have Parker go get a glass of water from the kitchen. Get a straw, they're in the last cupboard next to the pantry," he called after her, Parker having bounded out of her chair and halfway to the door before he finished the sentence. "The bathroom's the tricky part. The injury to your right wrist is bad enough that I don't want you trying to use your hand for a few days. And injuring both arms means they're out of commission for the next several weeks. As much as you're going to hate this, you're going to need help with everything for that time—including bathroom trips." He watched Sophie's face as the implications set in. Her face flushed with a combination of shame and embarrassment, and she turned her face away from him. He continued, "I'm pretty sure you don't want either Nate or Hardison helping you with this, so it's down to Parker or me. Who do you want in the bathroom with you?"

For a long moment she lay silent. Then, "Parker." The word escaped her mouth little more than a whisper.

"All right. Let's see if we can't get you sitting first, so you can drink a little water. I'm going to put my hands behind your back and lift you up. I want you to concentrate on just breathing shallowly; don't try to tense your muscles to sit up. Got it?" he asked.

She gave a tiny nod, looking at him again.

His arms went under her almost as a hug, bracing her back as evenly as possible so he could lift her upright. Her face tightened with pain as she adjusted her muscles to keep herself from toppling over, and it took several breaths before she was able to relax a little.

"Here's the water," Parker said, holding out the glass of clear liquid with a straw sticking out of it.

Eliot would wonder when Parker entered the room, but he'd learned not to question her seemingly magical appearing skills. "Thanks," he said, taking the glass and holding it up to Sophie's lips. She drank half of it before he pulled it away. "Half now, half after." He turned to Parker. "Now I'm going to have to ask you to do something you've never had to do for anyone else before."

"What is that?" Parker asked, head slightly tilted.

"Sophie can't use her hands in the bathroom at all. She'd rather you do it than me."

Eliot watched Parker carefully for any signs of revulsion or disgust, but she merely frowned for a second thoughtfully before nodding. "OK."

He turned back to Sophie. "I'm going to remove the blanket now. You ready?" Her eyes closed and she dipped her head in assent, so he began to peel the blanket away. He'd have to lie to say he hadn't ever thought of seeing the body Sophie had hid under glamorous dresses, but this was not the situation he'd have come up with in any dream or fantasy, and his visual examination was dispassionate and entirely focused on damage assessment. Helping Sophie stand up without damaging her ribs further or putting a hand on the wrong body part was a challenge, but she was at last walking stiffly to the bathroom, and he left the two women in there as he began to unpack his medical kit.

Being injured—often severely—meant he had a good deal in the way of medical supplies, more than the average person. Antibiotic cream and bandages for the chest wounds—the small gashes on her stomach, Eliot thought were probably from the taser. Damned barbs sometimes dug in pretty hard, and he didn't imagine her captor was gentle about ripping them out. Binding for the ribs, splints for the right wrist and left upper arm, and a double sling to keep her from re-injuring them. Only one thing he still needed.

He exited the room, going to the top of the stairs and calling down, "I need someone to make an ice pack and bring up." He had no doubt that one of the two men downstairs would leap at the opportunity to do something, anything, for Sophie. He returned in time to help Sophie drink the rest of the glass of water and lie back down on the bed; the knock came before she was quite situated, and he cracked the door just enough to take the ice pack from Nate before closing the door in his face again. He hoped the older man would take the hint and go back downstairs, not sit outside hovering. He put that out of his mind for now as he picked up the first supplies. "Let's tackle the wounds on your stomach first."

* * *

Sophie wondered just where Eliot had picked up such expert medical skills. His hands were deft as they bandaged and splinted, Parker watching every movement intently. But she was even more grateful for the way he treated her. There was no pity in his eyes, just calm understanding, recognition of the more humiliating aspects of her experiences, and matter-of-fact discussion of necessities.

"There, that's the last of it," he said, gently wiping away the blood from her lip and pressing the ice pack lightly against it her cheek and corner of her mouth. "I don't want to try to put you in clothes that need any kind of arm movement, and I don't have a gown for you at the moment, but Parker can probably go steal one or two from the local hospital in a bit."

Parker's eyes brightened at that, and her whole body twitched in readiness.

Eliot's mouth crooked upwards slightly. "Not yet, Parker, I need you for a little bit yet." He turned back to Sophie. "When was the last time you had something to eat?"

"Um, the dinner we had last night—right before."

"Over 24 hours, then. I don't have anything made but I can make some soup."

"That sounds good," Sophie said with a tired smile.

"All right. Parker will take care of you till I return." Out of the corner of his eye, Parker's eyes grew wide, and he held a hand up to forestall any talking from her, his gaze on Sophie.

"You don't have to watch me," Sophie said, mumbling as she had her face turned to press against the ice pack. If they hovered constantly…

Eliot looked at her silently for a moment. "I know you're gonna want to be alone, but given that you can't actually use your arms for anything… Someone is going to be here at all times. We'll try to give you as much space as we can." He glanced over at Parker, whose face still read _I need to talk_ , and tipped his head toward the doorway. "She'll be right back."

Sophie closed her eyes. The pain was down to a dull ache, and she was _so_ very tired. She could feel Eliot draw the light blanket up to her shoulders, and the light flicked off just before the click of the door. Alone at last. She took slow breaths, as deep as her ribs allowed, chasing the welcome oblivion.

* * *

Parker took the hint, following him to the hallway, which was fortunately empty. Eliot could hear the sound of Hardison's laptop keys, and he thought Nate might have stumbled across his gym from the faint echoes of a workout bag being punched.

"What is it?" Eliot whispered to Parker.

"How am I supposed to take care of her?" she whispered back.

Eliot took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Have you ever been around someone after… before?"

"Well, yeah, but I was eight the first time it happened to me. Sophie's a lot older than that. I stole some locks and picked them every time I woke up with nightmares. Sophie doesn't like picking locks."

 _When Parker was…_ Eliot clamped down hard on the fury that arose inside at the thought, forcing himself to look calmly at the woman in front of him. "She's gonna want to have control of her life, but it's tricky because she can't use her arms. So you have to stay back, stay quiet, wait for her to ask you for what she wants."

Parker frowned.

"Right now she's probably just ready to sleep, but we're going to have to trade off shifts for a couple weeks, until she can start to use her hands again. The others might be able to visit—but I don't think they can take care of her."

Parker thought for a moment. "Yeah, you're right," she said finally. "Hardison doesn't like blood and wounds, and Nate gets all funny about her because he likes her and won't do anything about it."

 _Ain't that the truth._ "You got it," Eliot said aloud. "I'll be back with the soup as soon as I can. If you want to grab anything from the van to do while you sit there, now's a good time." Parker kept a stash of locks there, he recalled. Parker was halfway down the stairs before he took one step down.

In the kitchen, Nate paced restlessly, so Eliot made up a shopping list for future meals and sent him out the door. At least he had the essentials on hand for chicken noodle, he thought, and began attacking the carrots with precise movements, picturing Sophie's captor underneath the blade. It was therapeutic, and he found himself calming somewhat as he cooked. A light snore echoed from the living room, where Hardison had sprawled across the couch, and Eliot grinned before returning to the food preparations.

Nate returned before the soup was done, and Eliot ordered him to eat a bowl of it before he loaded one on a tray for Sophie and carried it upstairs. "I'll stay with her till 10; get some sleep," he ordered Parker, who abandoned the lock she was picking. "Hardison's got the couch downstairs, so you can either use my bed or crash wherever you like. The bedding's in the linen closet at the end of the hallway," he informed her.

Feeding Sophie was awkward at first. "I feel like I'm a bloody infant in a highchair," she muttered as Eliot lifted another spoonful to her lips. She swallowed the mouthful, and Eliot rested the spoon in the bowl for a moment.

"It ain't easy letting people do things for you," he said softly, watching her.

Her eyes met his solemnly. "No, it isn't," she agreed in a quiet voice. Eliot readied another spoonful, and Sophie swallowed it before studying his face. "Have you ever…" she began hesitantly, trailing off and turning her eyes to her immobile hands.

"Been raped?" Eliot finished her sentence with a guess. Sophie's eyes abruptly met his gaze before darting away from it. He took that as affirmation of his guess. "No, I haven't," he said. "I've been held captive for weeks, I've been tortured, I've been beaten to within an inch of my life, but… no, I haven't."

Sophie opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. Her eyes filled with tears, a couple spilling down her cheeks, and she let out a little sob. "I can't even wipe my face," she said, her voice cracking a little.

Eliot brushed the tearstreaks with his thumbs. "It's gonna take time. Not just to be able to use your arms again, but to where you don't feel like you're ready to fall through the cracks in your own skin the moment you stop moving."

Sophie nodded and sat silently for a minute, staring at her lap. At last she looked directly at him. "Thanks," she whispered.

"It's nothin'," he answered, shaking his head. "Let's get the rest of this soup into you before it cools too much."

* * *

If Eliot treated her with quiet compassion and presence, Sophie decided Parker's treatment fell more under the heading of disengagement. The younger woman spent hours in Sophie's bedroom picking locks, checking her rigging, and looking up blueprints and security systems on a spare laptop of Hardison's, but mostly left Sophie to her own thoughts, responding only when talked to. At first Sophie was content with that—it took hours to catch up on all of her missed sleep—but eventually she got to the point where she was too awake to sleep and her thoughts weren't the most pleasant of company.

"You're very quiet," Sophie observed.

Parker looked up, hands pausing from checking one of her harnesses. "Eliot told me not to bother you, so you would feel like you had control of your life."

"Right now I think I'd rather you bother me," Sophie admitted.

Parker gazed at Sophie steadily, and Sophie almost wanted to squirm. "Oh, you need a distraction. That's how I got started picking locks all the time," she informed Sophie. She examined another section of the harness.

Sophie eyed her with some curiosity. "What did you need distraction from?"

Parker kept checking the harness as she spoke. "One of my foster families, the dad used to come into my room at nights. The first time was the worst; I got used to it after that—until I could find a way to get moved—but picking locks helped."

She had known Parker's childhood had not been pleasant, but hearing it… Sophie blinked back tears rapidly. "You're right, I need a distraction. But even if I could pick locks," she looked at the double sling holding her arms, "I don't think it would work for me. Could we chat for a while?"

"Sure, what do you want to talk about?"

Sophie racked her brain, then grinned when she hit upon it. "The top five things you'd steal if we weren't being the good guys. Ranked, and why you'd go for each one."

"Ooh," Parker said with a matching grin, before starting into her list.

* * *

The next few days fell into something of a pattern. Parker and Eliot traded off shifts during the day, then split the night between them. Nate haunted the kitchen so much that Eliot started making him help cook. Hardison spent the day on his laptop, and Eliot stared one day when he came down to find a brand new TV in his living room.

"What is this?" he asked Hardison.

"Come on, man, you are living a deprived existence."

"I don't need a TV," Eliot said, gritting his teeth.

"Hey, we're all here, so—we need it."

Eliot decided Hardison had a point, letting out a sigh in response. The team had pretty much invaded his home for the duration of Sophie's recovery, and it wasn't like he could really kick them out.

Later, he brought the plate of pasta up and sat feeding it to Sophie. "Are you getting bored yet?" he asked as he speared another couple shells on the fork and mopped up some sauce with them before lifting to Sophie's mouth.

He rested the fork on the plate as she chewed and swallowed. "I—yes, I am," she said. "There's only so much to talk about, and if I want to read something I have to keep asking for the page to be turned."

"Do you feel up to joining everyone downstairs to watch something? Hardison set up a TV."

Sophie glanced down at the flimsy hospital gown she was wearing. "In this outfit?" she asked with a little laugh.

Eliot grinned. "I think I can probably ask Parker to acquire an extra large sweatshirt somewhere, and a blanket will do for the rest."

"My wardrobe isn't terribly glamorous these days, is it?" Sophie asked with a wry grin.

Eliot dipped his head slightly in acknowledgment.

"Nate's down there," she said, more statement than question.

Eliot nodded. "He goes home to sleep but spends all day here."

Sophie thought for a minute. "Do I get to pick the movie?" she finally asked.

"'Course you do."

She smiled a little. "I think I'm ready for that."

* * *

Sophie was comfortably warm in the gigantic sweatshirt Parker had brought her—large enough to go over the double sling without injuring her further—and the soft blanket that wrapped around her legs and feet. Eliot had carefully deposited her in the middle of the couch and claimed a seat on one side. Hardison perched on the edge of an easy chair as he pulled up the video file. Parker perched on the back of the couch, feet resting on the armrest. The one holdout was Nate, who stood off to the side, looking ill at ease. His eyes kept darting to her, then away uncomfortably.

"Take a seat, Nate," Sophie called, tipping her head toward the empty seat next to her.

He slowly made his way over and sank into the couch cushion, looking straight ahead.

Sophie sighed. "Nate," she said in a soft voice, "will you look at me?" A fresh flare of irritation arose within her at not being able to use a hand to touch him.

Nate lifted his head and turned to look at her. His eyes were shuttered, and Sophie swallowed hard. "It's good to see you," she said after a moment.

"You too," he said, turning back to the screen as the opening scene began to play across the screen.

Sophie gave up, laying her head back against the couch and losing herself in the story. She was only partially successful, since Parker kept commenting on the (to her) strange behavior of the leading lady, Hardison bemoaned the (to him) extreme age of the film, and Eliot contributed sarcastic rejoinders to the more ridiculous questions posed by the younger two. Only Nate was silent.

By the time the end credits were rolling, Sophie was wishing desperately for a way to talk to Nate alone. She nearly exhaled with relief when Eliot suddenly leaped up and announced it was dinner time.

"It's a movie night, snack food's good," Hardison argued.

"Fine, you can help me make it. You too, Parker," Eliot added.

Sophie couldn't tell but suspected he'd given Parker some sort of signal over her head because the younger woman abandoned her spot to follow the others into the kitchen. Nate began to get up as well. "Nate. Please."

He sat back down, studying his hands. His fingers folded over each other again and again.

A tendril of fear began to unfold in Sophie's heart. "Nate, why—why is it so hard for you to look at me? Is it because they—"

"Yes," Nate answered quickly, a roughness to his voice.

Sophie's heart sank, and she cursed inwardly when she felt tears pricking her eyes again. She closed them, squeezing tight in hopes it would halt the progress of future tears. "I'm sorry," she said, proud that at least her voice was mostly even.

She felt Nate turn towards her. "Soph—what—no, this isn't your fault. You have nothing to apologize for."

"Yes, I do," she choked out. "I took out my comm—"

"No, no, it wasn't you," he interrupted. "I should've never let you walk home alone like that."

The note of pain in his voice caused Sophie to open her eyes. Through blurry vision she could see Nate's face, an anguished expression on it. "It wasn't your fault, Nate," she whispered.

His hands reached for her face, and thumbs gently wiped the tears from her cheek. "It wasn't yours either."

She wanted to laugh at the two of them trying to reassure each other, but it came out as a sob. "It's hard to believe that."

"Yeah, I know," came the quiet answer.

He did, didn't he, she realized. Sophie thought of hospitals and insurance, and a little boy with brown hair and blue eyes who never got to grow up. "Maybe," she began, "maybe if we have to absolve each other, we can try to absolve ourselves?"

There was a long pause. "We can try," he said at last.

Whatever else either of them was going to say was lost immediately at the return of Hardison and Parker. "Dude wants help in the kitchen but then complains about every little thing," Hardison whined.

"Oh, please, you're just annoyed because he wanted to put grated garlic on the popcorn," Parker retorted.

"Hey, garlic does not belong on popcorn, OK? Nasty, I tell you, just nasty. Butter or cheese all the way, baby."

"Mmm, no, Rocky Road. Now _that_ is delicious." Parker hummed her satisfaction at the memory.

Hardison stared at her. "Rocky Road is an _ice cream_ flavor. _Ice cream._ Ain't no Rocky Road popcorn."

"Is too!"

Sophie shared a small grin with Nate as the argument continued. Some things never changed—and that was reassuring.

* * *

Every storm does its own damage, leaving wounds in its wake. It's the healing that is optional—and family can make all the difference in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> kidnapping, serial killer, trauma recovery


End file.
